


Blue Eyed Psycho

by BlackDragon2016



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDragon2016/pseuds/BlackDragon2016
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's seen it all. As a child his parents were murdered in front of him, and he was cast onto the street. Unwanted. </p>
<p>Growing up homeless and barely surviving, he realizes that to get by in this world, it's kill or be killed. </p>
<p>Let's just say he's not ready to die yet, and Dan thinks he can save Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phil's Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is the first time I'm posting my stories in this site, so please forgive any errors you might see in paragraph spacing and stuff. I also appreciate comments to let me know how I'm doing, and if you would like more!

He was such a happy child. He had everything; two parents who loved him, a big brother who looked after him, and a big house to live in. Ten year old Phil was hyper, cute, and shy. He hid behind his big brother Martyn when people at the supermarket would talk to him. He would blush if someone complimented him, and murmur a quiet thank you.

But at home was different. He was outgoing and sweet. He picked flowers for his mom from outside. He made his dad the best cards for Father's day, sometimes spending  an entire five hours to complete it.

"I was so happy..." Phil from the present murmured to himself, now age nineteen. He liked to hear the sound of his own voice. It helped tie him down to the world. "Nothing perfect lasts." He was sitting down with his back to the brick wall behind him, in an alley between the shoe shop and a bakery. This was one of the few places were he wasn't chased from, the two shopkeepers seemed to have a tolerance for him.

His intense blue eyes darted down to the knife in his hand. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He would go out again tonight. His next victim would be that awful Derek from high school.

Phil learned a while back that in this world, it's kill or be killed. The only way to live was to strike down your enemies before they could get you. He learned that the hard way, remembering the screams of his parents as the knife plunged into them one at a time.

"But I'm not gonna die like that..." he reassured himself. It helped to say it. It seemed more real. "Not like my parents did. Oh no no no...Philly's not gonna die yet."


	2. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do flashbacks in italicized text. :)

It would be a lie to say he didn't enjoy it.

Phil stared down at the lifeless body of Derek. Blood pooled around it and was quickly spreading.

"Goodbye," he whispered softly. It seemed to give closure to the whole ordeal. He pulled the knife from the body's stomach and used Derek's shirt to wipe the blood off of the stainless steel weapon.

The guy had put up a fight, and Phil had a black eye to prove it. But living on the streets gave him resilience. You had to had to have it to survive.

He stared at the body a moment longer, burning the image into his mind. He liked to remind himself of what happened when you let your enemies roam free.

And Phil was pretty damn glad that this one hadn't escaped him. Derek did some awful things back when they went to highschool together. "Now we're even," he said to the corpse as he exited the room. It was always better to get out of the vicinity of the murder after it happened. Phil didn't fancy wasting away in jail.

He ran from the area, not stopping until he was a few miles away from the site. He would avoid that area for a while. Standard protocol.

Phil ran a hand through his messy ginger hair with a sigh. He slipped the knife in his worn out jacket pocket. He always had to have it with him. It was like a tribute to his parents.

_"What the hel-" the knife was seen too late, and it plunged into the man's chest. He made a choking, whimpering sound, his eyes widening in shock._

_For a second he locked gazes with a little boy hiding behind the bookshelf. His eyes held all the pain he was feeling. Complete agony._

_Then he crumpled to the floor, and the boy wanted to scream. That's my father! Silent tears flowed down his cheeks. His whole family was covered in red._

Phil wiped a tear that escaped from his eye. "No crying," he reminded himself. Every tear knocked a bit of his barrier down. And he was terrified to uncover the him underneath.

"Stupid thoughts. I'm fine. I've always been fine." He slowly got control of himself and breathed deeply, his moment of weakness gone.

Thankfully not many people were out, otherwise they would've given him strange glances. Phil hated them all. These were the humans who turned their backs on him when he needed it most.

 


	3. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried writing Phil's flashback in first person this time. What do you all think about that?

_ I jolt into consciousness at the sound of a crash. I blink slowly a few times, trying to see something through the darkness in my room. Maybe Martyn broke a glass? He did that sometimes by accident. He could be hurt. I frowned. If he was then I want to help him. _

_I climbed out of bed, the duvet rustling softy as it moved. My socks muffled the sound of my footsteps as I padded out of my room. The hallway was just as dark, which meant my parents were asleep. They only turned it off once everyone was in bed. I tiptoed, listening for sounds of cursing. I did hear a faint voice, but I didn't recognize it. I decided to keep going, thinking that my brother was just tired and sounded funny._

_I rounded the corner that went into the dining room, and I saw a hooded figure bending over to pick up something off the table, then slipping it inside the duffle bag they carried over their shoulder. The vase mum spent so long painting laid in shards on the floor._

_His back was to me, and it was much to broad to be Martyn's. Too short to be my father._

_Something screamed a warning at me. Hide! Hide! I ducked back behind the wall, my heart pounding. This felt wrong. Maybe I'm just being silly. It could be one of my dad's friends coming over because they forgot something of theirs. But, still...what if father doesn't know that man? Why would he be wearing a mask if he was welcome here?_

_Should I go wake up Martyn? He always knows what to do. But his room was on the other side of the dinning room, like my parents. If I could just sneak over there...I peaked from behind the wall, seeing the man still had his back facing me, and ran as quietly as I could to the china cabinet, about halfway through the room. I slipped behind it, between the wall and the wood. One of my favourite hiding spots for games._

Phil woke with a start, his heart pounding with the memory. He sat, breathing heavily for a few moments, trying to calm down. He ran a hand through his hair, noticing that it was wet with sweat.

It hadn't been a game, though. He knew that now. Phil was lucky to even be alive. The rest of his family died that night from the very weapon he carried around.

From dreams like these he always wondered why he was spared. If the murderer had turned around, if Phil hadn't woken up from the crash, he would've joined his parents.

"What is my purpose? Wander around aimlessly all my life?" He whispered to the sky, looking up at the darkness. He was in some alley, having fallen asleep slouched up against the brick wall at his back.

Phil wanted answers. He always has. But he knows by now that there are some questions will never have closure.

He sighed slowly. Maybe there wasn't anything for him. He would've found it if there was by now, surely.

The sun would be rising soon, maybe an hour or so. The stars were still out and the sky was slightly illuminated. One of the things Phil enjoyed most was watching the sunrise at the park. He got up, stretching out all of the soreness. He's forgotten by now what a bed felt like to sleep in, only remembering the comforting feeling of being surrounded by a duvet.

From where he was it would only take twenty minutes or so to get there, or what he thought of as twenty, as he did not own a watch. He made sure that he still carried the knife with him. Gang members wouldn't pass an opportunity to rob someone in their sleep if they knew the person had something worth taking.

He scanned the area before he left the alley, just to make sure it was safe to leave. Being homeless brought many challenges, including to have to constantly be on the lookout. Once he deemed it was safe, he left the relative safety of his resting place and walked along the sidewalk, keeping an eye out warily. This was the time the those gangs were most active. Phil was pretty sure he wasn't in any of their 'territories', but they moved them all the time.

When he entered the park there were already a couple people there, running and jogging at first light. The sun was just peeking out from over the horizon, turing the sky a light orange. He layed down on his back on a small hill, turning his eyes upwards. The grass was a comfy pillow compared to the hard stone he layed on last night. Unfortunately though, a policeman would patrol here sometime during the night so he couldn't sleep here.

Unsurprisingly, his heart felt the harsh tug of loneliness that he felt often. Phil wished he had someone to talk to, to share his ideas and thoughts. Maybe that was another reason he liked to talk to himself. Then he could pretend someone was listening. "I love how the sky lights up in the morning," he said to himself, not caring if it made him sound crazy to any people walking past.

"I do too."

Phil sat and and turned around. He had not expected someone to answer him. There, standing a couple feet behind him, was a boy about his age, with long brown hair styled into a fringe. The guy wore a black shirt and black skinny jeans, which fit him nicely and were clean. His face was unblemished with dirt, and his brown eyes were deep, and they reminded Phil of a swirling vortex.

"Who are you?" Phil asked nervously. Usually people would yell at him to leave.

"Dan." The guy shoved his hands into his pockets and looked to the sky. "I like to watch the sunrise too, mostly from my bedroom window."

"Lucky," Phil muttered, laying back and turning his eyes up. No other noise came from behind him, so it was a surprise when the boy, Dan, spoke again.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"To everyone else I'm nameless, so why does that matter?"

"I told you mine, and it's only fair if I get one back."

"Phil." He expected Dan to leave now and become bored, but he came and sat next to Phil.

Phil became rigid, unsure of what was happening. "What are you doing?"

"I'm obviously sitting, what does it look like I'm doing?" There was a space in between the two boys, but it didn't feel like that to Phil.

"But why here? There's plenty of space all around." Phil guestured with his hand at the area surrounding them.

"Because this is where I want to lay down at. If it bothers you, I can move."

Phil thought quickly. "No! Er, I mean no, I don't mind." This was his chance to talk to someone other then himself and he didn't want to ruin it.

"Okay." Neither of them said anything else, watching as the sun rose and bathed everything in light. A few birds started chirping and it brought a peaceful feeling washing over everything in the park. "That was really serene."

"Yep." Phil closed his eyes, liking the warm rays of sunshine against his pale face. "Now if only the sun will give me a tan."

"Doesn't look like it's worked so far," Dan snorted, then touched his hand lightly to Phil's shoulder to show that he was just playing.

"I look like Voldemort, don't I?"

The brown haired boy laughed. "Yeah, you do."

"Harry," Phil imitated in his best gravely voice, trying to sound like the dark lord.

Then a small noise came from Dan and he pulled out his phone. "Shit! I have to go. I was only supposed to stay until 7." He stood up quickly, brushing off his pants.

Phil began to panic a little bit inside."You have to leave?"

"Yeah. Sorry mate. Hey, uh, I'll be back here tomorrow morning, okay?"

Phil nodded eagerly. "Okay. See you then, I guess."

The other boy turned and walked away, texting on his phone.

 


	4. Incident

Phil ended up stealing a loaf of bread from a shop, concealing it in his clothes. He ate it now on a metal bench facing the road. Many cars drove past, sometimes honking at each other in aggravation. People also walked by, many in business suits walking home from work. None of them spared him a glance.

Meanwhile, Phil was thinking about the brown haired boy he met that morning. The guy hadn't looked at him with pity or disgust, just like a normal human. And it felt good to not be treated like trash. He was excited for tomorrow. "What will Dan say to me?" He wanted a friend so bad it hurt, and maybe this was the solution to that. A part of Phil nagged him not to get his hopes up, but he pushed that part of him down in favor of the more happier feelings.

"Hey, you!" A male voice rang out, and Phil turned to see a group of three guys glaring at him. The one who had called out was the obvious leader of the trio, and was the most muscled. "What are you doing on my bench, you filth?"

Phil's lips curled into a sneer. His good mood was completely shattered, and he was back to his old self. "I wasn't aware that it had your name on it." He made a show of looking around. "Oh wait. It doesn't."

"Get up now." The leader growled.

Phil gave him a cheeky smile, glancing at all the people walking past. A few of them turned their heads curiously. "I don't think you can do anything to me here. So nah, I think I'm pretty comfortable." His fingers unconsciously brushed across his knife handle. It wasn't the smartest to provoke a group of bigger guys like this, but Phil was feeling pretty confident right now.

The guy on the lefts hand shot out, grabbing Phil by the collar and getting right in his face. The man looked around thirty, and he had muddy hazel eyes. "You watch yourself, ya hear?"

Phil glared back, his ice blue eyes narrowing. "You're attracting attention."

The guy let go and stepped back. "We'll remember this," the leader promised, motioning for his group to follow. The turned their backs, not looking behind them as they walked down the sidewalk.

"I won't forget this either." Phil stared after them for a while, even long after they'd gone.

Phil went back to the same alley that night to sleep. It was another restless night, full of tossing and turning. But finally it became time to head to the park. Phil couldn't help the small smile that graced his face at the thought of having someone to talk to. He practically jogged to the hill they had met at before. The boy wasn't there yet, but that was okay because it seemed a little early anyways.

Phil sat down, trying to focus on the sky, but mainly scanning the area for Dan. A few people showed up, but none of them had long brown hair styled into a fringe.

Phil waited and waited. The sun rose, bathing everything in light just like yesterday, but the boy did not arrive. He waited a long time, desperately wanting to see his figure.

Eventually the sun was high in the sky, and Phil had to accept the fact that Dan wasn't coming like he said he would. And why would he? Phil was a homeless person for crying out loud. He felt stupid. Absolutely stupid. "I'm such an idiot!" He had let his hopes get the better of him. Dan isn't even my friend, he thought angrily. Why the hell would he keep his word to a guy he knew for less then an hour?

Phil got up. He calmly walked out of the park, though it felt like he could cry. The ginger haired boy wanted to hit someone, and that was himself. Just press the delete button and be gone.

Phil kept his head down as he walked down the sidewalk, not really wanting to deal with the outside world at the moment. Really, the encounter with Dan set in stone the one thing he always knew: he was alone.

He just wanted to duck behind a building and stay there for the rest of eternity.

When he looked back up he realized that he traveled a lot farther than he originally thought. In fact, he had no idea where he was. The area was completely unfamiliar to him. The buildings were run down, and few people walked about. "I must be at the bad part of the city."

"You think you can say that to us without punishment? Oh hell no, you little fag." The yelling came from what looked like an old brick shop up ahead.

Phil frowned. He could hear a bunch of voices coming the building, and whatever they were doing didn't sound good.

Nobody paid it any mind, like it happened everyday.

"Please stop!" A voice begged, and Phil instantly recognized it as Dan's.

Without even thinking Phil ran into the shop. It was all moldy inside and was obviously not in use anymore. The hallway he was in led to a room, where the sound of a fist connecting with flesh could be heard.

Phil clenched his teeth together, drawing out his knife and inching forward. He peered into the room.

The same three guys from earlier were circled around Dan, who already had a black eye and was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. The brown haired boy looked at them defiantly, but his body still cowered away from the group, who had their backs facing Phil.

A rush of anger made Phil dart forward to the closest guy to him. He brought up his knife and with one swift movement sliced it across the front of the person's neck. The man crumpled to the ground, blood spilling out from his wound, his eyes wide and terrified as he made gurgling noises.

The other two men looked horrified at Phil, like he was all their nightmares come true. Phil's ice eyes held no mercy in them as he met their gazes. Phil took one step in their direction, and the other two bolted past him out of the building.

Phil wiped the blood of his knife on the dying man's shirt like he always did and slid the weapon back into hiding. He turned his head to Dan, who was backed up against a corner and looking at Phil with a whirlwind of emotions.

Phil held out his hand to the boy, willing to help him back to his feet, but Dan just flinched. "W-what the hell?" His brown eyes strayed to the fallen guy, his awful gurgling sound getting fainter as he lost more blood.

"He brought this onto himself, like the rest of them." Phil tried to explain. He wanted to show the other boy that there was nothing to be afraid of. He now knew why Dan wasn't at the park this morning. Or at least, he wanted to think that was why. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Dan looked like he was going to cry. "Oh Jesus I didnt mean it I swear I don't want to die really it was just a joke, when I say fuck you it meant I love you like I also don't even know if you can ride a bike or like going on boats I'm so sorry I'm not ready to join you!" The brown eyed boy looked like he was trying to pray to the heavens.

Phil couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. His quiet chuckles made Dan glare at him with watery eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you," Phil said in between laughs.

"How the hell do I know that I can trust you?! You just murdered a person right in front of my eyes!"

"I was saving you," Phil pointed out, tapping the now dead body with his heel. "See? Your enemy is dead now. He's not coming back anytime soon!"

"You slit his throat!"

"Yeah I know. It's not that hard, really. I could teach you," Phil offered, trying to be friendly.

"What the fuck!?" Dan looked at him with repulsion in his eyes. Phil deflated a little bit.

"Well, I mean if you asked I could show you...you know in case you need to defend yourself again and stuff." The ginger haired boy scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"You want to teach me how to kill somebody?"

"Yeah..."

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope. I was kinda serious. I mean, if that was weird then I take it back." Phil looked sheepish.

"Weird is an understatement," Dan scoffed. "More like psycho."

"Hey!" Phil snapped, narrowing his eyes in anger. "Well you're more like....a....a...door!"

"A door." Dan repeated flatly.

"Yeah!"

"A door is the best you can do? Really?"

"I'm the one that's holding the knife here. I'd be a little more thankful if I was you." Phil took it out and waved it around as evidence.

"Yeah, but you just told me that you weren't going to hurt me."

"I could change my mind at any moment!"

"Sure you will. Stab me then if you mean it." The other boy locked eyes with him.

"What?" Phil asked, surprised that someone was telling him to kill them. And he didn't want to hurt Dan, he was his only company. "I don't want to."

"Stab me."

"No!" Phil yelled angrily. He put the knife back away. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Because you're not going to," Dan stated with newfound confidence.

"I just don't feel like it right now."

"Sure." He said sarcastically.

Phil then nervously looked away. "You might want to hurry and get up."

"Why?"

"The police will be here soon." He pointed out.

"Perfect!"

"No, not perfect, it's bad. I'll get arrested if I stay here." Phil pointed out.

"Well, good! You just killed a person!"

"No...it was an accident between both of you." Phil looked around and picked up a large piece of shattered glass and bent down to wipe the man's blood on it and dropped it. "He attacked you, and you defended yourself."

"That's not what happened."

"It is now. I saved you, you could at least do this. I doubt his friends are going to tattle, I'm sure they're responsible for a ton of crimes themselves." Phil looked at Dan pleadingly.

"What if I said no?" Dan responded, looking up at him.

"Then I'll go to jail. You're a victim and I'm a homeless person. No one would believe me over you."

Phil would spend the rest of his days in jail. There was the option of silencing the other boy, but he just didn't have the heart to do it. There was something different about him.

Dan ran his hand through his curling hair. "Fine! I can't believe that out of everything I've done I'm going to lie to the police."

Phil breathed a sigh of relief. He had ruined his chance at friendship, but at least he wouldn't be caught for murder. He gave one last look at Dan, then turned and left, not looking back once.

 


	5. Dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be focused around Dan more than Phil. I might do another one of these in the future, just letting you know. As always, I appreciate all comments and I love constructive criticism!

Dan was relieved when the police showed up. Apparently someone had heard and called 999. After careful consideration he told them the story that Phil made up, pointing to the glass shard that he 'used' in self defense. He didn't need to pretend to cry, tears leaked out by themselves.

Soon his parents were called and his father lay a protective hand on his shoulder while his mother was sobbing. The police questioned Dan for a while, but they seemed to believe him wholeheartedly. In fact, they gave him sympathetic glances and comforting words.

Dan just wanted to get away from it all and lay in his bed. And never leave his house. Ever. His parents seemed to pick up on it, and after permission to leave they all drove home.

Dan was the first to enter the house, sprinting up the stairs and ignoring his little brother, Adrian, who was wondering why everyone had left. Dan collapsed on his bed, not even bothering with the covers.

An image of the dying man popped up in his head, and he grabbed a fistful of his duvet.

Then an image of the guy named Phil, holding the bloody knife. His beautiful blue eyes were cold, even while he laughed at Dan. His giggle was surprisingly light, in contrast to the situation. His ginger hair was long and ungroomed, obviously from having slept outside. It was quite obvious he was homeless. Dan could tell from the minute he laid eyes on the guy at the park.

But there was also something different about the him. Call Dan stupid, but he hoped that Phil had gotten away safely. Phil had saved him, after all.  
\------  
One good thing came out of the incident; he got to have a week long break from school. He spent most of it playing on his phone and looking on his social media.

But one day he decided to head to the park to see the sunrise. Dan really didn't know whether he wanted to see Phil again, but in his mind he wanted closure to the whole situation, to see if the boy had gotten away.

Everyone was sleeping in his house, so he just had to tiptoe down the stairs and-

"What are you doing?" Adrian whispered from the kitchen.

Dan froze. "What are _you_ doing?" he countered, looking pointedly at the snacks Adrian held in his arms, obviously having stole them from the kitchen.

"I asked first. "

"I'm going outside for a walk." Dan slowly inched toward the front door. If he didn't leave soon, he could miss the sun coming up.

"Is that even safe after you got attacked?"

"Look, if you don't tell on me I won't tell on you. I'll be back before the parents wake up. Deal?"

His brother thought it over for a moment. "Deal."

Dan quickly left the house, and speed walked to the park. He looked for the hill and. . .

Phil was already there. Dan stopped in his tracks. He could leave now, the guy obviously wasn't arrested. But something made his feet move forward until he was behind the blue eyed boy.

More like blue eyed psycho, Dan thought. "Hi." he called out weakly.

Phil looked surprised to see him again. "Uh, hi. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I mean allowed to come to the park too, aren't I?" Dan didn't want to admit that he had come to see Phil.

"Did you want something?" Phil's tone was different from the last time Dan had met him, it was indifferent and uncaring.

"Just making sure you weren't carted off to a prison cell."

"I don't need your concern."

Dan was unsure of what to say, confused by the situation. Phil wasn't acting friendly and awkward like he was before. This was like a whole different person. "Why didn't you kill me too?" Dan blurted.

Phil looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "You sound pretty nervous for one so confident before. I didn't kill you because you were the first person who I had a friendly conversation with."

"Look," Dan sighed, "to be honest I don't even really know why I'm here."

"Then leave."

Before the brown haired boy could change his mind he handed Phil twenty pounds he had in his pocket. "Here."

Phil looked at it long enough that Dan doubted if he was going to take it. In the end he reached out hesitantly and took it, murmuring a quiet thank you.

"You're, uh, welcome. Don't spend it on drugs, okay?" He didn't want his money to be wasted.

Phil sniffed. "I don't do drugs."

"Thats good." Awkward pause. "So do you come here every morning?"

"When I'm in the area."

"Can I sit?"

"Sure."

Dan sat down in the damp grass, folding his legs under him. The other boy payed him no mind, just staring up at the sky like the other time. The sun was rising in between the buildings and over the trees in the park. There was something peaceful in Phil's expression when he watched the sunrise. His eyes weren't cold or indifferent. They were soft and a bit sad, the look of someone who's had an awful past.

Dan snatched his gaze away and cleared his throat. "If you, uh, don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"Nineteen. You?" Dan exhaled thankfully at the answer. It was nice to know he was talking to someone around his own age. He thought Phil was around there, but it was still good to make sure.

"Seventeen."

"So, Dan, what do you like about the sunrise?"

Dan jumped a bit at the sound of his name before he remembered that he had told Phil what it was. "I like how it chases the darkness away, I guess."

The ginger haired boy looked thoughtful. "I like how it marks the start of a new day. It makes me feel like anything is possible, you know?"

"Yeah." Like friendship with a murderer, he thought. Laying down in the grass and wildflowers, however, Phil looked anything but dangerous. Like a big marshmallow. "You kind of look like a marshmallow, you know that?" he blurted.

"Marshmallow? No, I'm much more like Thor." Phil flexed his arm whilst still laying down.

Dan laughed. Comparing those two together was like comparing an apple to a phone. "Sure, sure." Phil didn't laugh. "You know, I'm going to get you to laugh again. Just wait for it."

Saying that Dan realized he also implied that he would be back to visit Phil. He glanced at the older boy to see if he minded.

"Challenge accepted." His blue eyes twinkled.

The brown haired boy nodded. He had to come back to the park now, he couldn't let the other win. The only reason why he was coming back at all.

The only reason.

 


	6. Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys this is the next chapter! :3

"Stop it!“ Phil pulled at his hair, willing the screams to go away. 

"S-stop it!" His voice hiccupped. They wouldn't go away. The screams of his mother when she found his dad's body, and the yells of Martyn as he struggled against the robber. 

"STOP STOP STOP!" The screams of everyone. All those people that he had killed were now joining up in his head, enveloping him in their agony. "PLEASE!" 

The wails of the dying, their cold blank looks after the last breath leaves their bodies. The redness of the blood that came from them, pooling everywhere and specks of it on Phil's clothes. The darkness of the rooms where the murders had taken place was swallowing him. He couldn't see anymore. Everything was a blur. Colors blended in with one another. The screams became a chorus to his ears. It drowned out everything else. 

Why can't I see?! He swiped at his eyes and they cleared up for a second before blurring once more. 

Then he realized it was his own tears obscuring his vision. He tugged his hair harder, hoping that maybe if he hurt himself he could snap back to reality. "LeEve mE aLOnE!" 

Who knows how many voices were screaming inside his head? He wailed himself, his own sound fitting with the others. 

He doesn't know when it ended, but when he came about it was dark all around. Street lamps gave him enough light to see his shaking hands, which he used to run through his hair. 

What the hell happened to me? 

Phil had never experienced something like that before. He had never minded ending other people's lives. He had always kept his emotions behind strong walls. Impenetrable. 

But now the walls were cracking. 

 


	7. Starbucks

Dan threw an empty Starbucks cup at his friend, who tried to dodge but failed when the styrofoam hit his face. 

"Hey! You have to pick that up!" Chris laughed. The cup slowly rolled under the table to Dan's left.

Dan snorted. "You were bothering me. I'm the customer."

Chris pretended to glare and bent down to pick up the trash. "I could have you thrown out for assault."

"I'm not the one who won't let me be around the people I want to be." Dan didn't want to admit it, but he was a little hurt that his didn't approve of his newfound friendship.

Chris sighed and sat down in the chair in front of Dan, setting the Starbucks cup down between them on the table. "Look mate, I'm just worried about you. You don't know that guy. He's homeless for goodness sake. You don't know what he's capable of."

You have no idea, Dan thought. He had a feeling Chris would drag him to a mental hospital if he ever found out that he made friends with a murderer. Dan knew Chris was trying to make sure he stayed safe, but he couldn't help but feel anger towards the fact that Chris was judging Phil based on the fact that he was homeless. Chris hadn't even seen the guy! "He's a good person." Dan protested.

"How long have you known him for? Three weeks now? How do you know that he's not just taking advantage of you? Seriously Dan, how much do you actually know about him?"

Dan figured saying that Phil looked beautiful while looking up at the sunrise wouldn't help. "I know enough to know that he wouldn't 'take advantage' of me. You need to have more faith in me."

"Faith?" Chris snorted. "Alright Dan whatever." A smile pulled on his lips, ending the serious mood. "I have to get back to work. Just. . . please meet with him in a public place." And with that Chris pretty much pranced back behind the counter.

Dan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew what he was doing. Phil was funny and kind. He would never use me for money or anything else. Dan was almost positive. The 'almost' part the small seeds of doubt planted from Chris's words. Sure, there was an intimidating part of him. Cold, even. But that's not the real Phil. Dan could tell. In the short three weeks he had known the ginger haired boy he had figured out that Phil hid behind a wall. He would get a glimpse of the boy behind it once and a while, it getting more frequent lately. 

Dan could also tell something bad had happened to Phil. Some slight things like clenched fists and how his eyes darted around a lot. Or how he liked to change the subject whenever Dan asked about Phil's past. Somehow everything was connected. The more Phil tried to hide it, the more curious Dan got. 

He sighed, running a hand through his brown hair again. A headache was already forming. He took the trash on the table and stood up, throwing it in the bin before leaving. Dan barely spared a glance at the now hiring poster on the window of the café. It had been there for a while and it seemed nobody wanted the position. Luckily he didn't have to have a job right now as he told his parents that he was 'too busy with schoolwork'. They bought it surprisingly enough. As long as Dan kept his grades above a D his mum shouldn't suspect that he mainly spent his time on Facebook and YouTube.

Dan wound his way through a few streets, still deep in thought. YouTube was definitely one of his main hobbies. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he admired the people who were able to post their own videos on it. Sometimes he would turn on a video and imagine himself on the other end of the screen, talking to an audience. Of course no one would want to listen to him, because seriously who would, but Dan liked to pretend. What would it be like to have subscribers? Lots of views? That would involve people actually liking you, Dan reminded himself.

Stop dreaming and go back to reality.

 

 


End file.
